Oklahoma Dreaming: The Dinner Party
by Donna Schoenkopf
It is 2:47 in the morning. Monday morning. I cannot sleep. It’s because I’ve had a cup of very, very strong coffee and for the first time in a long time it has put the kibosh on any chance I have of getting any shuteye.
I am writing this now because when I went to bed at around midnight I remembered that I hadn’t written my column yet. So that made sleep a complete and utter impossibility.
It has been a week crammed with activity and I have been juggling everything with good humor, lots of pure energy, and some really good planning.
All that activity culminated in the worst meal I have ever served another fellow human being. But that’s not all.
Let’s begin at the beginning, shall we?
I had volunteered to be on the “Dinner Committee” of Sustainable Shawnee’s second annual Local Foods Harvest Feast. I had been meeting with the others regularly and we had come up with some interesting and delicious ideas.
Yesterday morning Barbara and Valerie and I went to the Farmers Market in Oklahoma City to pick up our order of fresh greens, bell peppers of many colors, root vegetables, artisan bread, and a bunch of other stuff.
I had to hurry back because I had ALSO invited 14 people over for a barbecue at 4:00 in the afternoon. (It has to be before sundown, otherwise people can’t see where to turn left on the dangerous hill on Killer Highway 177.
I invited them on this date because two members of The Cell were in town to attend Nancy’s housewarming party. I had helped Nancy move to the house next door to her old house during the week.
It was a terrific party ... lots of people, including Shawnee’s Episcopal priest, Father Clark, who blessed the house, wearing resplendent garments and reading Biblical verses so beautiful that I cried a little, even though I am long past God stuff. We had giant crab legs flown in from Alaska, tender steaks, and lots of pot luck hors d’oeuvres and desserts.
A wonderful night.
So I rushed home from the Farmers Market to take care of preparations for my dinner party.
First I had to cut some remaining unruly vegetation my little rechargeable weed whacker hadn’t been able to do in one sitting earlier in the week. Moved some stuff around. Whacked the grass growing through the deck. Washed down the tables on the deck.
Then the house.
You know how much dirt comes into the house, don’t you? My house is neat but FILLED with dirt. And in minutes after I’ve cleaned it, the dirt comes back. So I was forced to sweep, mop, and Bissell on the actual day of the dinner party.
No problem. I whistled while I worked. Got that floor as clean as it will ever be. Dusted. Stood back and took stock. It was okay.
Next, the cooking of the meal.
MENU
Guacamole and Chips
Pepperjack Cheese and Crackers
Honey Roasted Nuts
Hamburgers
Veggie Burgers
Roasted New Potatoes, Yams and Russets
Cole Slaw
Baked Beans
Dessert
I started cooking.
First the hamburgers. Shaped them. Soy sauce for flavor. Covered them with plastic wrap. Refrigerated them.
Next, cole slaw. Easy. Done.
Then the roasted potatoes. I KNEW I should cut them in the same size pieces so they would roast more evenly, but for some reason I didn’t. I thought I could just keep testing them and pull them out as they got done.
(Nope. Wrong.)
Then the baked beans. Put bacon on top. Put ’em in the oven with the potatoes.
Then the guacamole. Easy and good.
And waddaya know. Just as I finished, the first guest arrived.
We talked, had a beer, and then the others started arriving. We all had some wine and beer. Lots of chatting.
One topic of conversation was about my elbow. I had gotten a series of little bites on it a few days before. It wouldn’t stop itching. And now it had gotten swollen, deep red, and there was a little crater forming in the middle of everything. I asked Rocky if it was a Brown Recluse spider bite. He looked at it and said ...
“Yes.” And that I had better get to a doctor. Tomorrow would be okay.
I remembered the horrible pictures I had seen on the Internet of Brown Recluse spider bites.
All I can say is, “Ugh.”
not served: fried Coke
Time to get those burgers on.
Potatoes looked done. Beans not quite. The bacon was still not crispy. I figured I would turn the oven down, which kept the potatoes warm and would crisp up the bacon.
Larry went out to the barbecue and began cooking hamburgers.
I was running around setting up the buffet table and some of the women helped.
Dinner came together.
And it was the most horrible dinner ever.
I forgot to put out the cole slaw. I forgot the veggie burgers completely. The potatoes were in a state of too mushy or too hard. The baked beans bacon never got crisp. The guacamole was okay. The dessert was fine because Nancy brought some of hers from the night before.
The worst part was the hamburgers. I had gotten hamburger meat with too much fat in it. Because they sat for a while before we began eating, they felt like chunks of lard in my mouth.
They were excruciatingly horrible.
No one said a word. What sweet dinner guests they are.
Then coffee. WAY too strong. I had bought it already ground and that must have been the difference. It was barely drinkable.
In the meantime, we had been in and out all night, leaving the sliding glass doors open, which meant a HUGE amount of all kinds of insects had managed to get in. Swarms of gnats, flies (where the hell did THEY come from??), moths, dozens of varieties, big and little, INCLUDING a large preying mantis up in the rafters, vacuuming up scores of gnats as he walked slowly along the ceiling.
Then we said our good-nights on the deck. There were ZILLIONS of insects out there, blackening the walls of the house. And ANOTHER preying mantis sweeping them into his greedy mouth.
I watched as they left, feeling like a total failure.
And now I can’t sleep, because of the coffee.
The cats haven’t come home.
I have to be up early to start on the decorating for the Feast.
And my stomach hurts.
Please God (who isn’t there) don’t let it be the hamburgers.
I have to be up in three hours to cook those black-eyed peas.
And this story is due.
So I’m typing it.
And did I tell you my stomach hurts?
Oh, God.
PLEASE don’t let it be the hamburgers.
donna@fourstory.org
Comments
Don’t believe a word she has written. It was a splendid party. Everyone felt cozy and relaxed, and the food was delicious. This from a couple who had declined the invitation due to a seriously ill parent but slipped away from the hospital for some much needed love and comfort-- and found it with a warm, welcoming Donna at Chigger Lake. Food for the spirit trumps everything else.
2009-09-29 by NeldaIt was a wonderful party and the food was delicious. YOUR burger may have been cold because you were distracted by playing hostess. And strong coffee is always better than weak—wimps can just add water. It was a great evening. Our only regret was leaving the cleanup—to Diego!
2009-09-29 by DonEverytime I have Jon and Deb over, they arrive to a house full of fruit flies. Because I am filthy. (In German, the worst word you can call a woman is “schlampe.” It means “slobby woman.") Also, I always have to put the roast chicken back in the oven after I’ve started to carve it, for salmonella’s sake. Sounds fun!
2009-09-29 by rebeccaDonna dear, it is the wonderful company that is important not the food, believe me I know about food disasters, including the sick people who never want to speak to you again. (sigh)
2009-09-29 by Janice Wood
Oy, brings back memories. Dinner parties that went awry. Next time, nearly total pot luck. That way everyone can blame The Other Guy’s dish that went south.
Well, hope you got to the doctor since brown recluses aren’t anything to mess around with.
2009-09-29 by Ann Calhoun